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I was never a normal child, certainly not one that would measure up to the name my family held in the small nonexistent town. People knew everyone, except not a single soul knew about me. Not until my mother forced me on the cheer leading squad. Even now, as I stand here with the bottle of Vodka and the depression pills, do i feel fear. I can't even smell it anymore. This isn't the first time I tried to commit the big S, but it will be the last.
Everyone looked at me funny after the first time, acting like everything they said could set me off, put me back on the brink, The only thing they didn't know, I dangled my toes over the line of life and death all my life. A loneliness hit me, a certain deprivation of the world that i longed for, but couldn't quench the thirst in this small town. A darkness veiled itself over my eyes, making everything clearer than the light did.
The light had a way of making things seem better than they actually were. The darkness made everything real, and while not quite simple and happy as the light, it was truthful, unlike the millions of people who left me after the second attempt. The bullet hole was the most painful thing I had tried. An attempt to silence the pounding of my heart. The fear reeked off my body, slithering like a snake in attempt to take me out. Even then, I could feel my hands shake as I pulled the trigger, even then as the blood ran off my body and mixed into the earth, could I smell the stench of fear. Pain and misery were nothing knew to me, but I puked the minute the bullet pierced only inches above my heart, the pain a searing and hateful thin. I didn't want to die like that. Mutilated, in so much pain that I couldn't reflect on what brought me here.
Tipping the bottle to my mouth, I swirl it around on my tongue. The taste bitter and hard as it bites its way down my throat, ripping the flesh from the back of my esophagus. The pills following after it, with another long swig from the already half finished bottle. I turned and throw the bottle against the wall. The clear liquid shattering, spilling all over the wall, the glass spraying all over the room. Pieces of it caught light as they flew through the air, everything seemed to be in slow motion as it reflected it around the room. The light jumping from one wall to the next. When everything settled the darkness returned, with pain and misery, comforting me like a familiar security net. Calm and silent. Beckoning me into its grasp like a mother to its child, promising an easy out. A way to not feel. Walking to the table i pick up the mess. My vision blurring slightly as I feel the pills began to take their effect.
I am running out of time. Moving more swiftly. I grab the long sexy black dress and slip into it. My sleek long body hugging the the fabric as its silky embrace slides over me. Next i put a face on that would shame even the prettiest vixen, I figure if I am going to die might as well be hot when I hit my grave. Next I put my long flowing brunette hair into a long high pony and watch as it adds the final touches to my dramatic out.
Taking the black wilted rose in one hand, and the bible in the other, I lay myself down on my mother's very expensive and very sleek white couch. My dark skin contrasting beautifully with the pure snow white back drop. What a picture this would be for the obituary column in tomorrow's papers. Nothing mattered anymore, the darkness settled over me, rocking me back to sleep. My eyes, dark and foggy hazel, close slowly, sleeping beauty ain't got nothing on me, because unlike her, my prince in shinning armor doesn't exist and after eighteen years of trying, no one can fix me, and no one can save me. But I can find my escape.
The fog settles in my brain, clouding my thoughts. Pushing me into unconsciousness, I feel myself floating, flying and hovering over my body. I blink back tears as I look at how pretty I am. Mother was right, all it took was a little effort and I could be every guys dream. Too bad I didn't feel the need to try at love, to me love wasn't something you should have to act like bait for. It should just happen. Come easily. Nothing like that ever found its way into my life, and now I could stop the hurt before it found me.
Bone to bone, dust to dust. Back to the earth from whence I came. I have no problem rotting in a coffin, I Feel myself fade from the scene and blackness settles over me.
- by Rooftops_scream |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 06/14/2011 |
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![](https://graphics.gaiaonline.com/images/arena-images/ic_paper_corner_32x32.gif)
- Title: Hearbroken Cliche
- Artist: Rooftops_scream
- Description: Sometimes the cliches in life, make the most sense. When darkness becomes clearer than the light you are supposed to follow, and when blood and death smell and offer more comfort than roses and life, then and only then is the time to fear for your sanity, pride and soul. That is when you have everything on the line.
- Date: 06/14/2011
- Tags: hearbroken cliche
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